


In the Silent Darkness

by Jadynof9



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Angst, Eventually Some Comfort, F/F, Hurt, Sensory Deprivation, Whump, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadynof9/pseuds/Jadynof9
Summary: Seven wakes to find her world turned upside down despite being, for all intents and purposes, safe and sound. Now she must learn to navigate this unknown situation with what remaining resources she has, and hope she can figure out what awaits both her and Raffi on the other side.
Relationships: Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 17
Kudos: 20





	1. Waking Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to apologize now for what I put Seven through in this story...
> 
> This idea had popped into my head maybe a week or so ago, and I couldn't let it go. For all the suspense that is riddled throughout this first chapter, I promise the story will have a lighter ending!
> 
> This can be considered a follow up to Chariot. The original story idea was intended to be a stand-alone, and it can still be read that way. As it developed though, the ending of Chariot just fit so smoothly into the setup of Seven's current condition that I ran with it. It will come up in more detail in the following chapter(s?), but again, you don't need to have read Chariot for it to make sense.

Darkness. That was to be expected because with awareness came a pounding sensation in her skull that instinctively suggested opening her eyes would be a poor choice. Accepting that, she took a moment to take account of her bodily injuries. Just slight movements, flexing of muscles here and there to test for pain. She grimaced more than once, soreness screaming with practically ever motion, but no indication of broken bones or any more serious internal injuries. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

At least, it should have been loudly. It was definitely forceful, she felt that much. Brain racing to further wakefulness in order to form a coherent thought regarding the situation, she gasped at the conclusion. This only increased the developing panic, as again she felt the gasping motion but heard nothing.

Seven couldn’t hear _anything_.

In her shock, her eyes flew open and she sat up, ignoring the screaming nerve endings throughout her abused body protesting vehemently. Her head darted around frantically, breathing growing rapid and shallow in a bizarre experience of feeling her lungs working, her ribs shifting with the contracting and relaxing of surrounding musculature, the air passing through her nostrils and brushing past her upper lip, but not _hearing_ any of it happening. But she now was near manic at the realization that the darkness wasn’t dissipating.

Seven couldn’t see anything, either.

None of this made sense. There was no input from her ocular implant, no input to be amplified through her auditory processors, _nothing_. Memories of those first terrifying moments being severed from the Collective emerged, dealing with the silence, the haunting echo of only her own voice in her suddenly seemingly cavernous mind. At least then everything _worked_. She still had sensory input. She still _felt_ Borg. Now she felt terrifyingly alone in a whole new way.

Her thoughts were racing, unnervingly silent in the absence of auditory or visual information. Her memory, it seemed, was unaffected by whatever was blocking her senses. She had been on the run for a couple of days, waiting for _La Sirena_ to return. There had been running. Hiding. Fighting. Each day she was a little more battered, yet also a little prouder that she remained standing while her attackers hadn’t. Hunting, gathering, surviving. Bringing supplies back to the cave where…

She froze.

Where was Raffi?

Raffi had been injured, was hiding in the cave to recover. Seven had gone on repeated outings, aiming to throw off any attempts at tracking, draw their pursuers away from her injured partner. The last thing she remembered was bringing berries back to the cave, helping Raffi to sitting (which she finally could now, and stopped looking so sickly pale from the blood loss) so she could eat and drink more comfortably. The soft, playful look in her lover’s eyes as she teased the xB for her protective mothering. The frighteningly quick shift as those same eyes widened in terror. Seven had felt four lines of searing fire tear across her back as claws ripped through leather and flesh alike, then turning only to briefly see the incoming backfist before it impacted with such ferocity that she lost consciousness.

She frantically reached for her back, not feeling any indication that she had been injured. Healed, then, though uncertain by whom. Or where she even was. _Or where Raffi was._

Panic fully taking hold, she felt her throat tighten and vibrate as she grunted, swinging her legs around haphazardly on the assumption she was on a bed or cot of some sort. Disoriented but determined, she dangled her feet, pointing her toes in hopes of finding some approximation of how far off the ground she was. Finding nothing, and also too irrational to consider the dangers of departing from her perch, what with the constant pounding of Raffi’s name cycling in her brain, she pushed off the edge of the surface she was on and hoped for the best. This resulted in stumbling awkwardly as her feet impacted the floor quickly, only a few inches traveled before contact. Despite the incredible soreness throughout her aching form, the complete lack of additional sensory input to help her adjust, and the raging adrenaline, she flailed only briefly before coming to stand fully balanced.

Then a firm grip on her arm. Responding on instinct alone, she moved her arm in such a way as to break the hold, quickly swinging around in an attempt to knock out the individual who attempted to grab her. She swore she felt the slightest hint of contact before the surface seemed to fade out from her fist, leaving her nearly falling from her momentum. Then the grip had returned, firm again, but stabilizing rather than restricting. _A holo_ …

“EMH?” she said. At least she was pretty sure she had. It was an odd sensation to feel rather than hear her speech, more a sequence of vibrations, motions, pressures that she instinctively associated with those three letters. The grip squeezed gently. “ _La Sirena?_ ” she tried again, tongue feeling somewhat strange against her teeth without any sound to help her adjust the sibilant if needed. It must have been understandable because there was another gentle squeeze. Seven felt her first hint of relief, relaxing in knowing that she was at least in a familiar environment. It was short-lived, however.

“Raffi?” she cried, certain she must have sounded desperate based on the tension she felt in her throat and jaw as her mouth moved in a pattern as familiar to her as breathing, so often had she called that name. The grip did not move, but there was no responding squeeze. She said it again, expelling more air, thinking maybe she had spoken too quietly the first time. Again, nothing. Now she reached for where she assumed the EMH was, trying to grab on to him as she said more loudly, through gritted teeth, “ _Where is Raffi?”_

The holo must have dematerialized, as her hands passed seamlessly through the air and the grip on her arms dissipated. Frustrated, furious, afraid, Seven turned about recklessly, taking steps before turning again, trying desperately to orient herself with so little data in what she assumed was the med bay.

Another grip on her shoulder this time, but when she turned to strike her wrist was caught in a tight, fast hold. She reached with her other arm to grab the wrist of the hand on her shoulder, moving to displace it. The grip shifted smoothly, quickly, twisting around her own motion to take hold of her wrist. She suddenly felt both her arms being pulled slightly up, the grip shifting from her wrists to her hands, urging them to release their fists. They were then clapped firmly against the side of someone’s head. The fingers shifted, moving hers around ears. Pointed ears. Her left was then moved further forward, her fingers guided to grip the handle found there.

“Elnor,” she called forcefully. Under her right hand she felt his face shift quickly, reflexively. Wincing. Relaxing slightly, intentionally dialing back the amount of air passing through her throat and mouth she asked, “Too loud?” Her left hand was removed from the handle of his sword, both hands being placed more forward on his face, resting on his cheeks. She felt his head move up and down as he nodded. She offered an apologetic smirk, before saying, “Sorry,” mindful of doing her best to match the intensity of the vibrations to her previous question in order to keep an acceptable volume. Her hands could feel his face shift into a smile.

“Elnor, where is Raffi?” she asked quietly, pointedly enunciating each word to the best of her ability. It was odd, but not impossible, reconstructing her ability to communicate based on memories of sensations rather than auditory feedback. This odd utilization of her total recall functioning perfectly further confused and infuriated her, given the absolute lack of functionality in her sensory implants. She focused instead on waiting for Elnor’s response, somewhat grateful that it was him. After all, no one else would have been foolish enough to try and grab her when they could not dematerialize on command to avoid her wrath. In addition, no one else would be nearly as easy to read in her impaired state, given the young Romulan’s lifestyle of constantly wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Her own heart sunk as she felt his smile fade, head tilt downward ever so slightly. She felt him release one hand, lowering the other and gently pulling. The tension lessened as she began to move, following his guidance with a slightly stiff shuffle. Even as much as she trusted him, walking blindly was not appealing. Soon his other hand was resting lightly on her opposite shoulder, slowing her until the pressure became solid, indicating she stop. She then felt both hands guided slowly, before being placed gently on what she assumed was Raffi’s arm. Unable to stop a sob of relief, she felt Elnor’s hands drop away, allowing her free reign. She attempted to glide down Raffi’s arm, but was stopped by a hard, solid surface. Carefully examining it, pressure kept light lest she accidently flutter over a console, she immediately recognized the arch of the biobed. Heartrate picking up again, her other hand felt its way up Raffi’s arm, trailing along the curve of the shoulder, pulling across fabric to find the skin of her neck before freezing again.

Skin that was far cooler than it should be.

Shaking now, memories of finding a different body on a far less comforting operating surface, she blindly aimed for the top of Raffi’s head with one hand, the other hastily tracing along skin to find a pulse. As she rested one hand tentatively atop wild, unkempt curls, her fingers on the other finally rested on a thready but definitely present pulse.

Seven didn’t even bother to try and fight the tears. Exhausted, overwhelmed, and still utterly confused as to what was happening to her, it simply wasn’t worth the effort to maintain her composure. She thought she felt a very, _very_ slight rumble through her feet, but paid it no mind until Elnor (presumably) laid a hand gently on her back. The hand traveled up to her shoulder while another gently pulled her own away from Raffi’s hair, despite her resistance. Pressure increased on her shoulder as her hand came in contact with the edge of something: a chair, she realized, after some brief groping about. Sighing at the awkwardness that was quickly becoming her normal, she allowed herself as best she could to be guided into the seat, never loosening the grip she had placed on Raffi’s arm after confirming the woman was alive. Once settled, Elnor’s grip on her shoulder squeezed gently before rubbing slowly across her back. Seven allowed herself a few moments to simply absorb everything that was happening. Raffi was here. They were back on _La Sirena._ Raffi was _alive_. Clearly unconscious, and obviously not in fantastic condition, but they were both safe regardless.

“Elnor,” she called out, not sure it was comprehensible given all she could feel was the jerky constriction in her throat as her crying gave way to intermittent sniffles and hiccups. She supposed it must have been, as he squeezed her shoulder in acknowledgement. “Is she going to be okay?”

There was no reaction for several beats, causing a band to constrict around her heart. What seemed an eternity later, she felt her hand grabbed and placed upon his shoulder, which slowly shrugged upward before dropping again. He then grabbed two of her fingers and placed them firmly against the pulse point she had found earlier. Her hand stayed there as she felt him moving against the chair, kneeling beside her before wrapping his arms around her tightly, resting his head against her shoulder. She continued to cry silently as she leaned into the embrace, hearing his voice clearly in her mind as if her ears were actually working.

“I don’t know, but she is alive. Hold on to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was interesting doing research on how people who were not born deaf experience or "hear" their own voice following the loss of their hearing. It was also interesting repeatedly saying things out loud in various volumes to try and get appropriate descriptors for the physical experience of talking. I highly recommend it...just maybe not where someone else can see or hear you. :)
> 
> As always, comments greatly appreciated!


	2. Sleeping Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah no, there's going to be a third chapter.
> 
> This story has been a bit addictive to write, not gonna lie. As evidenced by the fact I apparently could not let myself sleep without finishing this chapter. Oops. :)
> 
> As I had mentioned at the beginning, this work definitely ended up a continuation of Chariot. While not necessary to have read that in order to understand this, some of the lines punch a little deeper if you _have_ read it.

The next several hours were, thankfully, unexpectedly full of activity. Elnor had seemingly assigned himself to Seven’s side, far as she could tell. She was begrudgingly grateful for the nursemaid, knowing that even if she could safely leave Raffi’s side and do anything other than sit and think, she likely would not unless absolutely necessary. Which of course meant that attending to biological necessities would go undone. The few times she was left untended usually resulted in Elnor bringing something back and placing it in or against her free hand: a handkerchief when she’d finished crying, a glass of water after she cleared her throat unconsciously, a sandwich after she felt her stomach rumble – apparently with a voracity that could be heard, given how quickly that sandwich arrived. All things she would have ignored otherwise.

He even managed to keep her engaged with his curiosity. After attending to her biological needs, he gently scratched his fingers across the upper part of her back before placing her hand on his head, allowing her to feel as it tilted in question. With similar ingenuity, he managed to ask more questions about their time on the planet, the attack that led to them going into hiding, how they survived…only stopping when her throat felt dry and crackly, rough from the continuous speaking.

The others braved visiting as well, which gave Seven the opportunity to expand her awareness of what exactly she could and could not interpret in her world now. The hint of Earl Grey identified Picard, as well as slightly more angular grip of his older hands; an odd detail to have maintained in his synth body but definitely appreciated at this particular moment. Rios generally wafted traces of whatever cigar he was nursing. He also tended to walk more heavily, which she managed to feel through her own feet; she wondered if that had been why Elnor had insisted she take her boots off. _Leave it to the warrior nun to help me extend my senses,_ she posited affectionately. Soji’s touch was soft but sure, whereas Agnes’ managed to stutter even there. Seven couldn’t help but imagine speech to go with it, particularly as Elnor would “translate” for them.

But eventually those hours ended as night watch began, someone at the helm for the time being and the rest gone to bed. Seven pre-emptively ordered Elnor to go and sleep, knowing full well the young, devoted-to-a-fault Romulan would likely try and stay up with her as long as possible. She convinced herself she could feel the internal conflict pouring off of him, debating whether to keep with his self-imposed duty or honor her request. Eventually she felt his arms wrap around her in a departing hug, feeling the slow expansion of his chest followed by a rapid deflation; she chuckled at this huffed sigh of resignation, patting his arm in acknowledgement.

But with his departure, the Ranger was now left with her thoughts. The panic she had nearly drowned in when she realized the full nature of her current state had not returned, but the core fears that had stoked it now pulsed loudly in her mind. What had happened to her? How long would it last? What had happened to Raffi? Would she survive? Would _they_ survive if Seven was stuck like this? She briefly considered calling out for the Emergency Hospitality Hologram, as never had there felt a more appropriate time for a full bottle of bourbon than now.

Instead, she sighed. The experience proved oddly grounding. Intrigued, and clearly having nothing better to do, she began taking deep, slow breaths, focusing intently on all of the sensations that came with it. She began to recall lessons with the Doctor when she was on Voyager, various discussions of comparative anatomy rolling idly through her recollection as she attempted to identify and name each muscle, bone, and connective tissue involved in the simple act of breathing. It brought a tired smile as the old memories played in her mind, along with the bittersweet possibility that memories may be the only images she sees again. The thought quickly changed the film playing through her mind, recollections of the woman laying before her now taking the lead. Seven felt tears prick the corners of her eyes again, amazed at just how much Raffi had come to mean to her, the way her body responded even to just these memories. Warmth spreading at thought of her smile, lungs filling in a contented sigh at the phantom pressure of those fingers interlaced with hers, heart racing at the tightened coil in her gut from the ghost of teasing teeth nipping just above her collarbone.

Heart breaking at the still motionless arm beneath her grip.

Slowly guiding her down Raffi’s arm again, she was surprised to find the barrier that had been there before was gone. The discovery brought with it a small ray of hope; Raffi had stabilized enough to no longer need that level of medical support. Seven continued tracing with her fingers until she was able to take Raffi’s hand in her own, trying to ignore the stab of concern that the skin was still cool rather than bringing that comforting warmth.

She settled herself as best she could, laying her head down on the surface of the bed and up against Raffi’s arm, seeking as much contact as she could manage without actually crawling up there with her. Sleep would elude her, having been unconscious for nearly 12 hours according to her internal chronometer following the attack in the cave. For now, she would simply keep her vigil, allowing her memories to keep her company.

_-~^~-_

“Is this thing on?”

The lilting English accent was so sudden, so foreign and distinct after nearly a full day of silence, Seven nearly fell out of her chair with the speed she had sat up. She turned her head rapidly, searching, before realizing she still couldn’t see anything. Best she could tell, she couldn’t hear anything either… _but then where had Emil’s voice just come from?_

“Give that reaction, I’m assuming our mission was a success,” the holo’s voice continued.

Seven was beyond perplexed. She could hear him, but not with her ears. It was almost like…

“Are you in my head?” she asked rather forcefully, too distracted to be monitoring her physical sensations for volume control and inflection.

“So to speak, and do try and relax. Apparently, you sound a bit angry and it is causing Agnes and Soji some concern.”

Seven tensed, finding that calm was the farthest thing from her mind with her already precarious situation becoming increasingly more confusing. Her next words were growled out through clenched jaw, which at the very least keeping her from being too loud.

“Explain yourself.”

“Oh dear, quite angry, Ian tells me. Bit hard to see for myself since we’re utilizing my program to connect with your hardware. Can’t very well maintain the holographic projection when I’m in here.” Seven began to relax somewhat, now that information was being provided.

“You are connected to my implants? How?”

“Ah, yes, Soji did a fair amount of research through the night and apparently accessed and reviewed logs of your time on Voyager. From there she found an account about a time you had the ship’s EMH as a ‘stowaway’ in your circuitry and…Seven, are you alright? Ian says you’ve gone quite pale.”

Seven swallowed thickly, trying desperately to will away the lingering sweetness of cheesecake that had suddenly filled her sense memory. She focused instead on speaking, keeping her speech low and steady. “The Doctor at that time controlled my body as a result of being downloaded through my ocular implant. This, thankfully, is not quite the same experience.”

“No, Soji did see your corresponding log of the event and how…intrusive…the encounter had been,” Emil responded tactfully. The fact that she was even able to distinguish tone and inflection filled Seven with sweet relief, unaware of how deeply her deprivation had been affecting her on an emotional level. As Emil continued, she found herself conjuring up an image of him in her mind, taking advantage of whatever “normal” interaction she could simulate.

“Between the Voyager EMH’s records and Soji’s and Agnes’ expertise, we were able to reach a sort of technological compromise. I am housed in your wiring enough to communicate through use of your linguistic processing centers without accessing any of the pathways that would interfere with the work of your cortical node nor your cerebellum. You maintain full physical autonomy.”

Seven felt her entire body nearly melt at the knowledge. Uncertain of which direction to turn her head, she simply smiled gratefully before uttering a general “Thank you” to anyone in the vicinity. Once the moment ended, her posture returned to upright and attentive, unconsciously squeezing Raffi’s hand still held in her own.

“Before I can assuage your concerns about Ms. Musiker, allow me to explain what we know of your condition first.” Seven’s eyebrow hiked right up, suddenly concerned about the privacy of her own thoughts now that yet another EMH was running around in her brain. “In much the same way I can’t see what is happening, no one else in the room can hear what I’m saying,” came the rushed response. “Because of the integrated holographic network within the ship, Ian is my ears out there. I can’t help but respond to what I hear and Soji mentioned both your obvious concern for my patient and your very quick reaction to _my_ responding to that concern. Your non-verbal communication has apparently become very _loud_ in your current condition.”

Seven took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax as well as ignore the persistent pounding that was beginning to develop in her temples. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive me for being a bit…touchy,” she offered diplomatically, unable to hold back a smirk.

“Ian insists I let you know he finds your ‘spunk’ endearing,” Emil offered in a droll tone, eliciting a genuine smile from the xB. “Now if I may continue?” Seven nodded, realizing belatedly that as the others apparently could not hear Emil, more explicit consent may be required.

“Please continue.”

“Soji gave me an account of how you both were found. As _La Sirena_ entered comms range, they were quickly concerned at the inability to locate your comm signals. This led them to hastening their arrival at which point they had to scan for human life signs in order to find you, given the destruction of your badges. Soji and Elnor beamed down near where you were found…a cave, I believe she said? When they entered the cave, you were unconscious and bleeding heavily from your back. Raffi…” his ‘voice’ trailed. Seven’s mental image of him faltered to neutral, not having input to apply any type of body language or facial expression. It was disorienting, as well as maddening. A split second before she was about to berate him for the pause, he continued. “It was clear Raffi had taken a beating in an attempt to protect you. Her body was draped across yours, gripping rather tightly until she was able to recognize her helpers. According to Soji, Raffi had managed to grab your phaser and dispatch the attacker, but not before incurring several severe injuries.”

Crushing weight seemed to bear down on the Ranger’s shoulders. Raffi had barely been in any condition to move on her own power, yet found same way to try and protect her? Guilt seemed to pound through her with every powerful, throbbing pulse of her heart. She found herself slowly pulling her hand away from Raffi’s, unable to fight the thought that all of her lover’s pain and current suffering was her fault.

“I don’t know how they made it into the cave without me knowing,” she admitted, jaw trembling with the terror of what she imagined happened after she had lost consciousness. She was aware that her mouth had formed the words but was so lost in her turmoil she couldn’t be sure she had actually spoken above more than a whisper. For all she knew, she had simply mouthed the words. “I was caught off guard, didn’t know what was happening until I saw the fear in Raffi’s eyes. How could I let them sneak in like that?” This she knew had been audible to some extent, given the tightness in her chest and the feeling of the groan reverberating through her head, carrying the words out her mouth with it.

“This may be small comfort,” Emil gently pierced through the mind fog Seven found herself curling into internally, “but you were in terrible condition when we found you, and not only from the wound on your back. I know you need less in terms of sleep, but based on your scans you hadn’t slept once in the six days you both were down there. And clearly you had been incredibly active that entire time, if the sheer number of cuts, bruises, swelling, and burns all over your person were any indication. There is nothing to indicate that the attacker didn’t simply bide his time in the cave until you returned. Or that, heaven forbid, you were completely exhausted and prone to the diminishing of senses that comes with lack of sleep or even regeneration in your case.”

Seven knew he had a point but refused to acquit herself. His statement did bring her back to the present enough to hold off on her personal sentencing. “Speaking of diminished senses.”

“Your attacker appeared to have transmitted some sort of poison via the wound he inflicted. Elnor found a pouch attached the creature’s belt that he likely dipped his claws into shortly before striking. It’s an utterly fascinating substance, quite technologically advanced even as the method of delivery is so crude.”

“The point, Emil,” she interjected, feeling her eye twitch at the tone of delight that had crept into the narrative. He had the grace to, somehow, communicate an abashed clearing of the throat.

“Yes, well, it appeared to be designed specifically for Borg: it was crafted to attack organic and synthetic components simultaneously. And yet not in such a way as to kill, but merely to incapacitate, similar to a paralytic agent making prey easier to hunt.”

“It likely _was_ designed for Borg,” Seven explained bitterly. “They began attacking us because they recognized my implants. Apparently, several generations ago a small Borg scouting ship had given chase to another vessel. The species of that planet was caught in the crossfire…they lost several members but also managed to completely destroy the drones rather than let them return to the Collective with news of their existence.” She let out a deep sigh, hoping to release some of the tension remembering this account had stirred up, further indicting her in her own mind. “For all that they live simply and in relative isolation, I would not be surprised that they would be smart enough to hold technological developments such as an ‘anti-Borg poison’ within their arsenal. The fact that they felt the need to use it on me most likely indicates they were growing weary of their hunt.” Here she couldn’t resist a smug smirk. “I did bring down quite a few of their members myself.”

“Be that as it may, the good news is the nature of the substance means that you will regain your senses eventually. Slowly, it could be over the course of several days, but surely. The targeted specificity of the neurotoxins will likely wear down first since your biological recovery can be aided both by rest and medical treatment. The synthetic components may take slightly more time. Best I can understand from the vast quantity of technobabble Ian and the others are trying to relay to me, it essentially short-circuited your sensory implants while simultaneously telling your nanoprobes not to do anything about it. Your system won’t quite realize anything is wrong until the sensory information begins returning and coming up deficient compared to previous baselines.”

Seven let yet another wave of relief course over her, the promise of normalcy doing more to alleviate her fear and apprehension than anything. At the rate things were progressing, she was fairly certain she would have no problem getting herself to sleep tonight, not only at the thought that it would speed her recovery, however incrementally, but also out of sheer emotional exhaustion. _Please, let the good news continue…_ she though as she drew herself upright, bolstering herself for her next question.

“And Raffi?”

The mental “Emil” stood frustratingly neutral again in her mind’s eye as the lack of response lengthened. A different tension filled her now, though of equal intensity to the guilt she was still barely holding at bay. Depending on the answer to her question, she began to wonder if regaining her senses would even be worth it.

“Whether intentional or not, she was attacked with the poison as well,” finally came the response in whispered tones. “I don’t believe it was ever intended to be used against purely organic lifeforms. In the absence of synthetic components, the substance targeted that which most closely resembled highly electrical synthetic activity: her brain.”

Seven felt ill. Part of her consciousness seemed to withdraw at this news, trying to fade away from the information and prevent further pain. But given that nothing she was “hearing” could actually be tuned out anymore than her consciousness could run away from itself, she was forced to attend as Emil continued. “We utilized a multi-systemic bypass to maintain function of all her primary organ systems while trying to combat any neurological degradation caused by the massive disruption in synaptic functioning. In the end we were able to withdraw any external forms of assistance and intervention, and her scans even show neuronal activity well within normal limits of human functioning. But we won’t know the full extent of any lasting damage until she regains consciousness. She could remain in a vegetative state. She could come back regressed to some degree, or with some level of retrograde amnesia. Or she could come back none the worse for wear.” He sighed, somehow. “Unfortunately, there is simply no way of knowing.”

“We can transfer a person’s entire consciousness into a completely synthetic body, but we can’t determine when or how someone will come out of a coma?” Seven ground out bitterly, angry. Everything was approaching too much to bear, yet again.

“If you would like, I could repeat to you the very panicked explanation Agnes is trying to tearfully offer. But I think the bottom line is simply that we have done all we can. The rest is up to Raffi.”

With that, Emil seemed to have departed, as a low buzzing disappeared that she hadn’t even noticed was present until she no longer felt it. Scooting her chair back slightly from the bed, she propped her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands. It was all too much, far too fast. The overwhelming feeling of powerlessness washed over her yet again, and this time she found herself unwilling to fight it. Anger continued to simmer just beneath the surface as well: towards herself, towards the people that had done this to them, and to some extent towards Raffi – for being so important to her, for breaking down her walls, for loving her, _for being so goddamn stubborn_ and trying to protect her _._

_“I’m counting on you to be just as stubborn as I am to get us out of this.”_

Seven’s head shot up. She reached out blindly, groping for Raffi’s hand to see if she was awake, the words had been so clear. After a moment of confusion, remembering that even if Raffi did somehow miraculously awaken there was no way she’d be able to hear yet, she placed the words in the memory. Raffi’s playful banter with her, despite having been significantly injured in that initial attack. Raffi wanting to cheer her up, singing to the sulking Ranger under her breath.

Promising to fight for their future together, and asking her to do the same.

Seven stilled, pausing for several breaths. Then she moved her chair back to its original post. Carefully she moved Raffi’s arm, shifting them both to where she could comfortably grip her partner’s hand, fingers interwoven. Not long after, she felt a gentle pressure against the back of her chair, slowly moving around until it was then brushing against her. Without even thinking, she draped her arm around Elnor’s shoulders after he sat on the floor next to her, resting his head against her leg.

And even in the midst of the considerable darkness that still swirled around within her, she believed for at least this moment that they would all get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help it, I feel the need to bring up the cheesecake incident whenever I can for some reason. Forgive me. XD
> 
> (For those unfamiliar with the reference, please watch "Body and Soul" (Voyager S7:E7) and marvel at Jeri Ryan's acting ability.)
> 
> Chapter three will be lighter, I promise!
> 
> Comments, as always, are greatly appreciated!


	3. Breath of Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone really _need_ sleep though? I mean really?
> 
> (Correct answer: Yes. Yes, I need sleep. That need just loses to the writing bug now and again.)
> 
> As I had mentioned at the beginning, this work definitely ended up a continuation of Chariot. While not necessary to have read that in order to understand this, some of the lines punch a little deeper if you _have_ read it.
> 
> In any case, on with the show! Finally some relief for poor, poor Seven!

The rest of the day had been filled similarly as the day before, various “conversations” as even Soji and Agnes tried their hand at communicating directly with Seven. It was fascinating to her to be able to detect the differences in their touch as smoothly as hearing their voices, each person communicating their own tone and personality in the speed, intensity, length, smoothness of the contact. She even challenged them after dinner to all have a conversation simultaneously, found herself seamlessly identifying each person’s questions and responses with little effort. It made for the precise type of mental challenge she always enjoyed, almost enough so to make her forget the inconvenience of her current state.

It was also a much needed distraction. Her mind was never far from the woman lying comatose nearby, regardless of how much the xB actively engaged with the rest of the crew. But the echo of that commission, remembered but also felt as though Raffi were reaching out to her through some undetectable link, pushed her on, challenging her to continue her own healing. Perhaps even an undertone of belief that if she could recover fully, it would somehow help Raffi do the same. This thought lingered in her mind overly long just as her gaze must have on the unconscious woman. A soft, confident touch slid onto her hand, squeezing with tender compassion. Seven turned toward where she believed Soji to have been, brought back to the present by the contact. A faint warmth filled her cheeks and she lowered her head slightly, self-conscious at having been caught with what she could only assume was a longing expression on her face.

“I was just thinking it wouldn’t be surprising if she waited specifically for me to finally leave the med bay and be engrossed in some project before waking up, just so she can walk up behind me and give me that cocky grin as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.” Seven smiled softly as she felt Soji’s laugh shake through the synth’s arm and hand, even though the grip on her own hand was light. A different touch traced from the corner of her lip up at a slight angle – Elnor, as no one else would be so bold – before poking at her sternum, then placing two splayed fingers against her upturned palm. Seven cocked her implant, indignant.

“I resent any implication that I would behave in a similar juvenile fashion,” she attempted to intone neutrally, eventually giving into the mischievous smirk that followed the path he had knowingly traced along her cheek. She imagined that had gotten a laugh out of them, or at least a similar smirk in return. A sigh escaped her lips, trying to temper the growing frustration at something as simple as not knowing their reactions. The patience of a hunt, or a puzzle to be solved, this she had in spades. This mundane _waiting_ however…

Another sigh, another slight shake of the head at a worried palm on her shoulder. She dodged the concern with the excuse of fatigue, as it _had_ been getting late. Fortunately, she genuinely was tired, as she was sure was evident on her face. Agnes and Soji had each given her a parting shoulder squeeze before the went about resituating herself next to Raffi’s bedside. Just as she was settling in, resting her head on her arms on the side of the bed, Elnor’s hands gently pulled at her shoulders. Seven sat up, turning her head just slightly to acknowledge his presence. He took her hand and placed it on lightly on his cheek, head shaking no as he ran his two fingers on his other hand up her spine.

“After nearly a week in and out of a cave, my back can handle one night of poor posture,” Seven chuckled. “But I do appreciate the concern.” She went to pull her hand away from his face, but Elnor would not release it, instead shaking his head more emphatically. He then took her hand and pointed it, touching Raffi’s arm. Next, he placed her palm flat across her own eyes briefly before turning it upward away from her, then she felt him poke at her chest again.

“Yes, I suppose if Raffi saw me like that, I would never hear the end of it,” she admitted, amused. “What did you have in mind?” He gave her a signal to wait. Before she knew it, he had somehow managed to retrieve a cot and arrange it right next to the biobed. Seven simply shook her head in disbelief. She also couldn’t help but laugh as Elnor all but tucked her in, briefly touching his forehead to hers before departing for the night.

Sleep lingered on the edges of her mind, held at bay by the haunting fear of what might happen when she woke. The exhaustion was real, and the anxiety equally so. Turning to her side, she reached out and slightly up, hand stretching across what, effectively, was a vast and immeasurable expanse in her blindness. Her thoughts went existential, considering the metaphor in far more depth than she had intended when it formed in her mind. Had she ever really believed any good would come from continuing to fight after losing Icheb? She must have, otherwise she wouldn’t have spoken so vehemently to Picard about her disdain for the thought of giving up. But what was that good? Did she still believe in it as Bjayzl’s essence dissipated into air after she vaporized her? After hearing of the pointless death of so strong a light in this dark universe as Hugh? Dying hundreds of times over as drones were unceremoniously sucked into the crushing voice of space? Was there any hope left in her after caving again to her darker impulses as she executed Narissa?

And yet across the interminable darkness, there was Raffi. Whether the battered old xB deserved it or not, Raffi was good.

Curling her fingers gently around Raffi’s hand, she drifted off to sleep.

_-~^~-_

The next morning, she awoke with some excitement. There was a difference when she opened her eyes. It was barely perceptible, about the same as having your eyes closed and being able to tell a light had been turned on, but it was progress all the same. A small smile crept on her face and she instinctively squeezed Raffi’s hand, not even questioning that she’d been holding it all through the night.

And each day continued similarly, accompanied with a slight rush of excitement as she was able to engage in her day to day with more independence, interact with the others with less accommodation. By the second day of progress, she could somewhat perceive movement in the form of varying degrees of darkness and shadows. By the third, she could somewhat hear her own voice, her own breathing. By the fifth she could start differentiating colors and if someone spoke loudly and directly into her ear, hear it as a whisper. By the end of the week, she was aware of her nanoprobes increasing in activity by the increase in sub-audible buzzing – partly heard, partly felt – that she previously had taken for granted. Additionally, she was beginning to receive input through her ocular implant allowing for depth perception, though it was still only matching the quality of the fuzzy imagery being interpreted by her right eye. She was even able to hear normal speech; still as a whisper that required considerable focus to interpret, but Elnor had communicated his appreciation at not having to shout the whole day. Seven teased that he didn’t have to spend so much time with her. And immediately had to backpedal when he thought she was telling him to leave her alone, assuring him that she did in fact enjoy his company.

The only thing that didn’t change in that week was Raffi’s condition. For all the novelty that each new day seemed to bring for the recovering Ranger, a weight pulled more deeply each evening when she returned to the unresponsive woman’s side. As sleep had not been necessary, Seven had taken to intermittently speaking to her throughout the night, whether recounting some progress from the day or a stray thought or image that crossed her mind. A few times there were tears, vulnerable admissions and quiet pleas for her to come back. Once there was bargaining, followed by chastising herself out loud for being irrational (but continuing to bargain nonetheless). But each morning for seven days started with Emil materializing, scanning, and reporting no change.

Elnor had convinced her to do some light sparring with him when it happened. When he asked her, she examined him with raised brow, scanning his blurry, dark-robed form and mostly featureless face.

“You do realize my vision is still fuzzy and I can barely hear unless you are standing right next to me, right?” The young Romulan shrugged, and she was certain she could make out a mischievous grin on his face.

“I may have a chance at winning then.” Seven laughed, shaking her head as she stood and approached him, draping an arm around his shoulders.

“I still think you’ll wipe the floor with me, but perhaps some exercise would do some good.” After a moment, he spoke to her, turning his head so that he was speaking directly toward her ear.

“Why would I try and use you as a cleaning implement?” Seven simply smiled.

Several minutes into their sparring session, her smile was gone, replaced with focused determination as she fought to adapt to her handicap. It was incredibly challenging, and she was well aware that Elnor was not utilizing the full breadth of his abilities. She also had enough of an ego to preen at the fact that he was still having to work considerably to keep up with her. Between the intense concentration as she plotted her next combination and the wonderful sound of her blood pulsing in her ears, she nearly missed it.

“You spend a week fighting for our lives, and the first thing I find you doing is fighting your friends,” came the low voice, somewhat raspy from lack of us, that wove itself throughout her entire being. “What on earth am I supposed to do with you?”

Torn between freezing and spinning so quickly she might stumble, she managed to maintain enough composure to turn around with some semblance of control. Raffi was blurry, of course, but there was no mistaking the halo of curls that seemed to be more of a glowing aura from this distance, framing a face that even, though she couldn’t see clearly, she knew was painted in that playful smirk that she’d longed to see for _days_. As she approached, she peripherally took in the detail that Rios was supporting Raffi pretty significantly. The closer she got, she could make out the affectionately disgruntled expression on his face and could only imagine the amount if arm-twisting and blackmailing it took to convince him to practically carry her up here.

And of course, she was also close enough to actually make out Raffi’s own features. Of their own accord, her hands found themselves gripping the older woman’s waist firmly enough to offer support while her eyes darted across her face, taking in every detail that had already been stored in her eidetic memory and appreciating it again as new. A soft laugh of disbelief escaped before the Ranger wrangled her face into a smug expression of her own as Raffi’s arms draped themselves heavily on her shoulders.

“Anything you want.”

Seven heard the eye roll evident in Rios’ groan as well as Raffi’s responding chuckle. Concern began to grow though as she found a tinge of anxiety in those hazel eyes, saw a tension in the lines of Raffi’s face that belied her easy banter. Without taking her eyes off of Raffi, Seven tilted her head toward Rios. “Did the doctor clear her?”

“Not that the stubborn old goat would give him any other choice, but yes, he said she’s good to return to her own bed at least.”

Without wasting a second, Seven bent slightly, shifting her arms to pick Raffi up with all the ease of a child. The OPS officer let out a brief squawk at the sudden in position, instinctively tightening her grip as Seven began walking briskly toward their quarters. Rios stuttered, shocked as they brushed by him. “I’ll be taking her to bed then,” Seven stated matter-of-factly.

“I don’t think he cleared her for quite that much activity, Seven!” he called out, but Seven paid no heed. She did feel Raffi unwrap one arm briefly, presumably to offer some sort of offensive gesture in response before curling back tightly around Seven’s neck. The tension Seven had seen she could now feel throughout her lover’s body, and she found herself speeding up in response.

When she reached their quarters, she went straight for the bed. “You didn’t need to strong arm Rios into bringing you to me if you weren’t feeling well. I would’ve been more than willing to come to you,” she teased gently as she began to set Raffi down. As Raffi settled into the bed though, her grip around Seven tightened, face buried into the xB. Seven’s concern increased as she felt moisture on her shoulder, bare in the sleeveless training shirt she had been wearing. There were muffled sounds, motion of lips moving against her skin. Seven shook her head as she moved to try and coax the grip from around her neck, but it merely tightened in response, followed by more muffled speech.

“Raffi? Hey, Raff, my hearing isn’t quite at 100% yet…” she offered somewhat feebly, wondering if she needed to call the EMH. Particularly as that admission appeared to increase Raffi’s distress. Just as she was about to speak, Raffi shifted her head from buried into Seven’s shoulder to resting on it.

“I thought I lost you,” she cried weakly into Seven’s ear. “God, I thought I lost you, and I should’ve seen him sooner, and Rios told me what happened, and I can’t believe what you’ve been through and it’s my fault and dammit I’m so sorry, Seven.”

Seven simply hovered awkwardly for a moment, stunned as the apologies continued to pour forth. After registering what was happening, she lifted the crying woman enough to allow herself to settle into the bed, shifting them both into a comfortable position despite Raffi maintaining a solid grip throughout the process. Nothing Seven did or said could seem to stem the flow of self-blame, however. Eventually, she simply sighed before gently grabbing Raffi’s face and kissing her.

The intent had been to provide Seven with an opportunity to speak, but it was quickly forgotten as she found tears welling from her own eyes at the contact. The kiss grew desperate, almost frantic, hands searching, grasping. Each reaching for the other in an attempt to ground themselves in the fact that “she’s right here, _she’s alive and right here_ ,” to chase away the dark fear of loss. As the reality began to sink in, the desperation eased into a gentle reverence, contact lingering softly, sweetly.

“I was terrified of losing you,” Seven finally whispered. “I’ve spent the past nine days blaming myself for not being able to protect you. For putting you in that situation in the first place, just because of what I am. For letting that bastard sneak up on me, and I will kiss you again if you try and interrupt me,” she warned as Raffi began a deep inhale, intending to argue. It was released in a huff, brow raised in surprise.

“And that’s supposed to keep me from talking?” Raffi quipped playfully. Seven made good on her threat, having successfully defused the pressure she’d seen building as she spoke.

“My point is,” she continued as she pulled away, “both of us could likely go for hours trying to claim responsibility for what happened.” Raffi gave a shy smile, muttering a quiet “guilty as charged” under her breath that Seven just barely caught. Raffi’s eyes drifted closed as Seven softly caressed her cheek, leaning into the woman’s touch as another tear escaped at the sensation. “I’d much rather appreciate the fact that I have you here, now. That I can see you. That I can hear you. That I _didn’t_ lose you,” she breathed, wiping more tears away gently with her thumb. “I’d rather focus on building our future,” she whispered tentatively, partly asking, unable to completely rid herself of that self-doubt.

The way Raffi’s eyes lit up in response, however, did the job nicely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this harrowing adventure! :)
> 
> As always, comments greatly appreciated!


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